Chapter the Fifteenth
by Astarel
Summary: One-shot, about what happens to the Baudelaires after The End. Everyone dies. Rated for dark themes.


**Random one-shot, about what happens to the Baudelaires after **_**The End. **_**Everyone dies. **

_Chapter The Fifteenth:_

The fate of the Baudelaire orphans remains an enigma, a word which here means "is a mystery after being infected by a deadly fungus". However, if you are reading this chapter, it is likely that you cannot control your voyeuristic impulses and wish to unravel the enigma surrounding their fate.

But I regret to inform you that after Kit Snicket's enigmatic death during childbirth on the shores of a faraway, enigmatic island, the equally enigmatic Lemony Snicket has gone to attend his sister's theoretical funeral in an undisclosed location. Here, the word theoretical means "using the body of another woman, since Kit's was never recovered". It is also likely that the words "the stand-in was not quite dead until she was nailed into the coffin" can be added to the aforementioned sentence.

Therefore, the task of telling the enigmatic tale falls to me, who's connection to the enigmatic Snicket family I cannot reveal for fear of the nearby patisserie arranging the information in a fruit parfait - a delicious, Very French Dessert that can also be used to conceal messages in slices of strawberries.

* * *

The Baudelaires would have been glad of such a French dessert, coded or otherwise, as they drifted through the ocean in the _Beatrice. _Exhausted, hungry and with nothing but the color of time surrounding them, hope had begun to fail amongst the siblings.

"Think of it this way," Violet said, voice weak with thirst. "At least Count Olaf will never be able to hurt us again."

But despite her words, she was not sure what she thought of the man. So many faucets of personality, each layer conflicting, like the kiss between fire and powder. An evil man, a murderer and arsonist, reflected in the mirror of truth as a martyr, a saint who had forfeit his own life to save his unrequited love.

Klaus, the middle sibling and only boy, stared into the vastness of the sea, idly contemplating his sister's words. He wished that the books he had brought had survived the water, so that he could have something to do besides think about the series of unfortunate events that had befallen them, about all the mysteries that remained unsolved. About their mother and father, who years ago had brutally murdered Olaf's parents with poison darts.

But now, the man who had plagued them for so much of their life, too was dead, buried on an unmarked island of all the lost things.

Death is generally not a pleasant thing. It is like meeting your second-from-last-favorite person in a dark alley, not quite able to escape him or her, yet obliged to say hello. Death can also be an eagerly awaited guest, to certain teenage individuals, but the Baudelaire orphans, while teenagers, had had so many brushes with death that they could have stared It in the face without flinching.

Death was what the youngest Baudelaire sibling, Sunny was thinking about. She was thinking of the dreadful way that Kit Snicket had died, next to the man she had spent her entire life escaping from. She, however, was also thinking of cooking, the only things that remained constant in her life that they had become synonymous.

Thus, Sunny, while mourning the loss of all their friends over the years, was also thinking of how nice it would be to have a chicken rotisserie onboard, and the selection of spices she would eat this theoretical fowl with.

But mostly, she was thinking about death.

Finally, Beatrice Snicket, the girl who had come into the world on a flooding coastal shelf, in the way that children under a year old do, was also thinking. She was thinking about all the enigmas in her life, about the mother who had died to save her, the father she had never met. It might seem unfair for a child to be born into the midst of all these enigmas and secrets, but then, things had never been fair for the Snicket family.

Hunger came upon the children, swifter than plague and more cutting than steel, until they had at last no more to eat than the bitter wind of the seas. Withered slowly, and tormented by the drowned spirits of the ocean, very little separated them from mania. Flesh eroded to brittle bone, and the sanctuary of the mind was intruded by the song of madness, the siren song of psychosis.

For in the desolation of the ocean, the order of our carefully controlled world gives way to primal instinct.

And so, time passed, marked only by the fiery parabola of the sun, slowly driving the children towards the arms of death. Perhaps, reader, you would like to believe that the four children survived their ordeal, and were finally able to enjoy the rest of their lives in peace.

Perhaps you would like to imagine that Violet married Quigley Quagmire, back from the dead, and they had many nameless children, all of whom lived normal, fortunate lives. You could believe that Klaus grew up to be a respected herpetologist, forgave Fiona's betrayal, and had a long, contented existence. Maybe it would be prudent to believe that Sunny and Beatrice trained as Italian chefs, and enjoyed making pasta more than solving the mysteries of the ancient past.  
If so, put down the book down now, and go on with your life. You will be none the worse for your time spent reading.

* * *

In the end of their lives, the Baudelaires began to say their last words.

Violet, expression serene as she waited for death, began their dark elegy. Her lips, still full in the twilight, formed words, the sounds of poetry that flowed like pure water from her heart.

"_Do you believe that a child can die, in the middle of the ocean?" _she sang, the lyrics flowing like a lament.

Klaus smiled faintly, again hearing the beauty of words. During that brief moment of lucidity, the boy felt the muses again come into his heart, broken so many times that he no longer felt the burn.

"_He dies with his eyes open, God can't even save him. Nobody can save him." _

Sunny grinned sanguinely, her voice tinkling with crystal clarity through the stagnant ocean.

"_You can hear the sea wave's cry and the wind call his name." _

Time eclipsed in that moment, that instant of infinity coalescing that comes before dread death. Memories came flooding back, drowning them like the endless sea. Like the stars that come to the end of their miserable, existential lives, the light of the Baudelaires faded into obscurity.

Some men fear death. But they do not realize that the fire of life sometimes burns too brightly.

The Baudelaires did not fear death, and as the Great Unknown rose from the depths, bringing to bear the zenith of all that is human, the three and one went gladly.

Beatrice smiled knowingly, and spoke her first, last words.

"_He is dying… he is dead." _

And amidst the light and shadow, the Baudelaires saw the truth behind the enigma, and all was good.

**Did you like it? PLEASE review! **


End file.
